


Snail Mail Drabbles

by NaomiJameston



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Domestic Bliss, F/M, Fluff, Romance, bit of Shakespeare for some flavor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:27:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24584545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaomiJameston/pseuds/NaomiJameston
Summary: These drabbles and one-shots were written for the Hearts and Cauldrons Discord Snail Mail Exchange. Each will feature SS/HG as the main couple (probably). Rating for later stories.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 29
Kudos: 71
Collections: Hearts & Cauldrons Snail Mail Exchange, Hearts and Cauldrons Discord Members





	1. Sleep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mersheeple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mersheeple/gifts), [turtle_wexler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/turtle_wexler/gifts), [LunaP999](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaP999/gifts), [misspeaches](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misspeaches/gifts), [LadyHeliotrope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyHeliotrope/gifts), [blackcoffee13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackcoffee13/gifts), [Galaxy_Eyes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galaxy_Eyes/gifts).



> Severus hates Shakespeare. Hermione loves him. Oh dear.
> 
> For TurtleWexler

He’d always hated Shakespeare. The Bard may have been universally admired by the masses but Severus had always found the work dull at best. The words on the page didn’t speak to him and the actors on the stage imbued the works with gravitas and weight that wouldn’t have been there in the author’s time. The bawdiness was ruined by endless analysis and rote memorization. How could he joke about the heads of maidens when his audience was his mother?

Oh, he’d tried to enjoy it once he realized his father had loathed The Bard, too. Tobias Snape had come from the mill early one afternoon- “not enough work and too many men, Eileen; no use for an old bastard like me”- and sneered at the tattered old paperback. Tobias had said that the words were only worth the paper they’d been printed on, and it was cheap at that. Young Severus had lived in fear that his father would tear the book to use for kindling, not because he enjoyed the words but because such an action would hurt his mother.

Young Severus never would have admitted that he’d almost wanted his father to burn the book and release him from the pressure of learning such drivel. Grown Severus had no problem admitting that his father- loathed as much as The Bard- may have had a point, but he kept the book safe in his bedroom in memory of his mother anyway.

Which is why he now had a dilemma. His new wife had found the book and plucked it from the shelf with the enthusiastic squeal she usually employed only for her favorite flowers or a tiny kitten.

“Severus, you didn’t tell me you have Shakespeare’s complete works!” Hermione enthused, plopping onto his lap. “Which is your favorite? A sonnet? Oh, no, I bet you’re a soliloquy man.”

Severus buried his face in her hair to hide his sneer. He still knew them all, damn his memory, but he hadn’t thought of those hated words in years. 

“Ah, let me see if I can guess which one.” She flipped through the book until finding the right page. “I’ll grant you that you’re much more stable than Hamlet, of course, but his struggles in making the right choice remind me of a certain reluctant Headmaster coming to terms with his fate:

“‘To be or not to be,’” she started but stopped when Severus snorted into her hair. “You disapprove?”

“I’ve never felt suicidal, I assure you,” he muttered. He caressed her sides in the hopes of distracting her, but she turned in his lap to face him fully.

“No? You’ve never longed for the sweet silence of sleep but worried about what you would dream?”

“Of course, but so has everyone,” he said, clasping her hips. “But that doesn’t mean suicide.”

Hermione pursed her lips and read: “‘To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub. For in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause.’ That doesn’t sound familiar?”

Severus paused. The words were the same as he’d heard before, as he’d repeated and performed, but the way she spoke them… she added some sort of meaning that he’d never heard. Obviously Hamlet had been suicidal but his were the outbursts of a child. Easily dismissed. Severus had never had reason to contemplate how Hamlet’s words would apply to his own life.

He wet his lips. “Continue.”

“‘There’s the respect that makes calamity of so long life; For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, the oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely, the pangs of despised love, the law’s delay, the insolence of office and and the spurns that patient merit of the unworthy takes, when he himself might his quietus make with a bare bodkin?’” 

She paused to take a breath but below her, Severus could not. His chest swelled with a confused jumble of emotions- the typical unsettled feeling in his stomach when Shakespeare was brought up in conversation, but also exhilaration, fear, trepidation, and a twinge of understanding. This was everything that Severus had been unable to express himself, written down by a dead man hundreds of years ago. It was as though Shakespeare himself had reached from the heavens and given Severus the gift of words. Of understanding. Of realization.

“‘But that the dread of something after death, the undiscover’d country from whose bourn no traveller returns, puzzles the will and makes us bear those ills we have than fly to others we know not of?’”

“‘Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,’” Severus completed. He closed his eyes with a hitched sigh. Hermione shifted on his lap and lifted the tear coursing down his cheek. He opened his damp eyes to meet hers.

“You are the least cowardly person I know, Severus Snape. You chose to handle those calamities and slings and arrows of life, and with a great deal less complaining than Hamlet.” Severus chuckled wetly and gathered her in to hold her chest to his.

“Thank you,” he whispered. Hermione squeezed him, the new ring on her finger making itself known against his back as she hugged him.

“I love you, you know. Even if you don’t like Shakespeare.”

Severus chuckled weakly. “And here I thought I was being subtle.”

“I can read you like a book, husband.” She snickered as she pulled back to kiss the tip of his nose. “Or a soliloquy.”

Severus rolled his eyes before plucking the book from her hands and tossing it away. He swallowed her laugh as their mouths connected, all thoughts of death and Shakespeare banished for the time being.


	2. Refresh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione lacks patience, and so does Severus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Mersheeple

Hermione clicked the mouse. The webpage refreshed but displayed the same empty screen. She growled and clicked again. And again. And ag-

A warm hand covered hers before she could click and gently slid her hand off the mouse.

“Enough, my love,” her husband spoke. His breath tickled along her neck and sent prickles along her spine. Her flesh goosebumped, her nipples tightened, and her breath caught, but she fought her reaction down with a shake of her head.

“I want to know, Severus!” she whined, tugging against his hand. “They said the results would be posted at noon and it is currently twelve-oh-four.”

Severus laughed. “Your university has never been on time for anything, Hermione; why would you expect differently now? Besides, you know what the result will be.”

She pouted. “Well, not necess-”

“Hermione,” he spoke in his professorial voice that went straight to her groin, “if there was a problem, your professors would have talked to you before letting you sit exams. You are the brightest witch of any age-”

“We’re supposed to be Muggles, Severus,” she pointed out.

He rolled his eyes. “Regardless. You are the best student they have at any school in this country. You passed. So stop worrying.”

Hermione opened and closed her mouth several times before settling on a pout. “I just-”

But her argument was lost as Severus pulled her from the chair and threw her over his shoulder.

“Enough thinking,  Professor ,” he said. He turned to kick open the door of their bedroom, ignoring Hermione’s shrieks and flailings. One of her hands slapped the keyboard as he pulled her away, catching the F5 key, but neither of them noticed.

And as the couple passed into the bedroom and the door closed behind them, the page refreshed, displaying a new screen:

“Congratulations to our graduates! And a special congratulations to our valedictorian, newly-minted Professor Hermione Snape, who passed with the highest scores our institution has ever seen.”


	3. Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For LunaP999

The lady with the beautifully bushy hair always arrived at half six each morning. She said the same words of greeting, ordered the same drink, and spent seven and a half minutes sitting in silence before leaving. He could set his watch to her. He’d almost made a joke about it once, but she hardly ever looked up when she ordered, so he kept silent.

Every day but Sunday, she’d open the door so quietly he almost didn’t hear it, stand in line, murmur quiet greetings to the barista on duty, and take her seat. He’d bring her drink over, she’d give him a disinterested grimace that passed for a smile, and that’d be the end of it until the next day. Sometimes she’d pull out a newspaper but though her eyes scanned the lines, he felt she wasn’t actually reading it. 

She often looked tired, not like she hadn’t slept well, but rather like the world was too heavy for her to carry any longer. Once she’d looked happy and excited, and had chatted with the barista about visiting friends in Scotland. But she’d been there the next day right on time, and the dried tear tracks had still been visible. Mostly now, she was just… blank. Not unhappy, not upset, not… anything, really. Just existing.

And it broke Severus’ heart. 

He had to do something about it, but he wasn’t sure what. He’d asked the two women he employed as baristas, but while they both agreed something needed to be done to help their favorite customer, neither had any ideas that suited him. The younger of the two, newly engaged and riding high on love, pushed for a grand gesture. Something over the top, romantic, heartfelt, and- 

But the elder, a woman who had been married longer than the other had been alive, took a quieter approach. Wait and see. Things may not be as bad as they seem, and if the lady in question wanted help, she’d ask.

But that droop in her shoulders called to him. The faint tugging down at her lips. The tiny sigh she let loose at the first sip of every cup… No, she needed help now.

The next morning, when she ordered her drink, he called out, “Excuse me, miss. The mix has changed recently. Do you have any allergies?”

She was startled and her chocolate eyes grew wide, but her voice was calm when she answered. “No, I’m not allergic to anything.”

He nodded, she grimace-smiled, and that was the end of that.

The next morning, his plan went into action. She ordered, he steamed and brewed and poured and served, and slipped a small cinnamon roll onto a plate with a napkin. On it, he’d written, “You didn’t mention your favorites, so I gave you mine. On the house.”

He watched with trepidation from the corner of his eye as he made the next customer’s drink. It took her a moment to notice the roll at all as she took the drink and sipped automatically, but he could tell the moment she did. She stiffened, read the napkin twice, and set it down with a laugh. She turned to look at him and he very carefully kept his attention on the machine in front of him. Not enough though, as it spit foaming milk at him. He cursed, dealt with the small spill, and missed whatever it was she would have said to him.

He was too busy after that to look at her- a touring group was gathering for a long day of sightseeing and every. single. one of them needed a complicated drink. By the time he looked up, she was gone.

And the plate was empty.

He rushed over, ostensibly to clear the table but the sly smile the women shared behind him told him he hadn’t fooled anyone. He tried to be casual as he swept down the chair and refolded a discarded newspaper someone had dropped on the floor. He was disappointed to see the crumpled napkin and lifted the plate to clean the table.

A note sat underneath on lined paper.

“Thanks,” it said, her handwriting just this side of legible. “My favorites are the blueberry muffins, but I rarely have time to get them. Your cinnamon rolls are a little dry, by the way. I have a great recipe that always makes moist buns; I’ll bring it by tomorrow. -Hermione.”

~~~~~

“And then you got married, Granddad?” the girl in his lap asked. Severus smiled to himself. She had the wild curls of her grandmother- possibly more wild; the poor child was half-covered in them- and the impatience as well. She knew the story as well as he did, but she always wanted to rush to the end.

“Well, not exactly,” Hermione said as she stepped around the corner from their kitchen, holding a large tray. “First I had to find a cinnamon roll recipe that would impress your grandfather. What could I do but call every single person I knew and beg? I even called the wife of my former fiance! Thankfully she had one, and here they are.”

She set down the tray with a flourish. A dozen cinnamon rolls nestled together, their tops dripping with white icing. Severus and Dinah sniffed appreciatively as one, drawing a smirk from Hermione. She slid a roll onto a plate and settled back into her deep armchair with a cup of coffee.

Rain battered the windows of their home, but inside was warm and cozy. The walls were covered with pictures and mementos of their time together- a sunset on the beach with their initials written in the sand; Hermione throwing her arms up in a cheer in front of a “sold” sign in front of the building that would house their second cafe; Severus proposing in the snow; their wedding the following summer; the birth of their eldest child, and several more after her; graduations and weddings and funerals and picnics and sweet snapshots of nothing in particular.

Life.

She chuckled to herself. Life, and coffee.


	4. LIbrary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For misspeaches
> 
> VERY NSFW

She said she loved libraries, but what she meant was that she loved any space with that smell- dust and leather and something undefinable. Knowledge, maybe. Hogwarts Library had that scent in spades and since she’d become its caretaker a year ago, she could enjoy that aroma whenever she wanted.

She flicked her wand at the long curtains to let in the dawn light, and the fluttering wind from the curtains washed over her books. With a satisfied hum, she breathed deep, letting her lungs fill with the unique scent she loved so much-

And she smelled him.

“Madam Granger,” he said, coming up behind her but stopping short of touching her. His robes billowed around him and their hems brushed. “You’re up early.”

“As are you, Professor Snape,” she replied with a smirk. “Did you sleep well?”

“I slept quite well, but when I woke, my bed was distressingly empty. I don’t suppose you know where my lover has gone?”

Hermione chuckled quietly. “When the light crests over the hill, she is no longer your lover but rather your colleague and respected friend. But I’m sure she’ll return to your arms after sunset.”

Severus flicked his wand at the curtains and they slid along their rods to close with a flutter of cloth and irritation. Still, he didn’t move closer, though Hermione could feel the tension in his muscles. His desire to grab her and have his wicked way with her again.

“The students won’t be in here for hours, Hermione, especially on a Saturday. The castle is still asleep.” He reached out to brush his hand along her spine tenderly. “Come back to bed, my love.”

“I have a better idea.”

Twisting, she grabbed his hand and dragged him off to a secluded alcove he’d never noticed before. She swept the curtain closed behind them and dropped her robes to reveal nothing but her smooth skin beneath. A flick of her finger divested him of his clothes, leaving him in the same condition. Severus pulled her close, growling under his breath as her hand encircled his hardening cock.

“You planned this, witch.”

Hermione dropped to her knees to nuzzle the soft hair at his core and to drop kisses on his pulsing testicles.

“You wouldn’t have agreed if I’d just asked.” He opened his mouth to argue, but whatever he was going to say was lost in a harsh gasp as she swallowed him to his base.

“Fuck, you’re good at that,” he moaned, twining his fingers in her hair to hold himself steady as he thrust gently into her mouth. “So fucking good.”

She pulled back to swirl her tongue around his tip before swallowing him again, bobbing her head faster and faster until she felt his testicles pull up tight. She released him with a pop and he near shouted in surprise and frustration.

“Oh no, my love,” she smirked. “Not yet.”

He moved more quickly than she expected and caught her shoulder to spin her around. The cold stone against her breasts made her gasp, warring with the warmth he generated within her from his fingers on her clit.

“Clever witch,” he growled, pressing open mouth kisses against her spine. He had just a touch of stubble and it scratched deliciously along sensitive nerve endings. He flicked a finger along the nub of her clit, making her squeal and curl her toes. “Hmm, so loud, my love. I’ve half a mind to gag you.”

“Later,” she panted. “Just fuck me now.”

He slid a hand into her hair, his other arm around hers to trap them against his chest, and pulled her upright to lean back against him. 

“Good girl,” he growled into her ear, and slid home. He barely gave her time to adjust to his girth before he pulled nearly entirely out, then slammed back in hard. Hermione whimpered and her legs quivered, but she matched him thrust for thrust.

He set a harsh pace, hard and deep and fast like she liked it, but every time she felt the cliff approaching, he backed off to slow and shallow and soft. Again and again and again. She felt her center coiling harder and tighter, and her legs quivered beneath her.

“Severus, please,” she whispered. She could feel him smile as he bit gently into the tendon on her neck, and his finger circled her clit once, twice- 

“Come for me,” he growled into her ear-

And she shattered. 

She shrieked with abandon, throwing her head wildly and panting his name with each breath as the coil within her snapped. Her legs collapsed and Severus lowered them gently to the floor, roaring his own completion as his hips lost their rhythm against her arse. 

They slid around to cuddle in the afterglow, her head on his chest and his hand smoothing down her hair.

“Wow,” she finally said. “I mean… wow.”

“Indeed,” Severus’ voice was heavy with amusement. “I knew you loved libraries, but I didn’t know-”

She laughed. “That was all you, smartarse. I had hoped you’d be game, but…”

He sat up with a start. “Are you telling me that had I not been willing to shag you silly, you’d have stayed naked under your robes all day?”

She blushed furiously. “Well- I mean, I…”

“Hermione Granger, you naughty girl,” Severus said, pulling her up to kiss her. “You are a wonder.”

She nuzzled into him, pressing nips and kisses to his neck. “I wish we could stay in here all day.”

“I would be inclined to agree if there was a cushioning charm on these stones,” Severus laughed. He stood, offering Hermione a hand, and flicked his wrist to summon their clothes. In an instant, they were dressed and another flick cleaned them. They were every inch the respectable professionals again, and Hermione pouted at the change. Severus caught her mouth with his own, flicking his tongue along the edge of her lips to open them and delving deep. They clung together, the heat between them rising rapidly-

“Madam Granger?” a child’s voice echoed through the aisles. Hermione and Severus jumped apart.

“Shite!” Hermione hissed. She thrust the alcove curtain aside and grabbed a stack of books off the shelf at random. She swept to the end of the aisle purposefully, as though she had nothing more on her mind than shelving. 

“Good morning, Anderson. You’re up particularly early,” she said and Severus smothered a snicker.

“Yes, ma’am,” the tiny girl- Genevieve Anderson, first year, Ravenclaw- nodded with enthusiasm. “I was hoping you could help me with a project for Professor Flitwick. He wants us to write thirty-six inches on various spells that use the swish-and-flick method, but I can’t remember them all.”

“I’m certain I can help you. And did you know that a friend of mine saved me from a troll using the swish-and-flick method demonstrated in the  _ wingardium _ spell?”

Severus heard the girl’s gasp and exclamation of horror, and smirked to himself. His perspective of the event was slightly different, after all, but at least the girl was thoroughly distracted.

She peppered the Hogwarts Librarian with questions as Hermione set the pile of books down on her desk, then turned to lead the girl down an aisle. Severus counted to thirty slowly then slipped from the alcove as silently as he could. He could see the edge of Hermione’s robe peeking from a far aisle, and his core tightened at the thought that Hermione was still nude underneath. More students trickled in and he knew she would be too busy to change all day.

A dark smile crossed his face. He’d have to plan a suitable response to her temptation.


	5. Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For LadyHeliotrope

The invitation was simple: “Your presence is requested at the Astronomy Tower tonight for a staff end-of-year celebration. Refreshments will be provided. Meteor shower viewing to follow.”

Severus snorted as he tucked the letter into his voluminous robes. ‘Invitation’ may be too kind a word, as was ‘request.’ He knew what would happen if he tried to skive off- Minerva would wring his neck and shout herself hoarse before collapsing back and complaining of her heart. She’d learned her dramatic flair from the best, and she employed it well.

It had become a game between them over the years and one he usually enjoyed, but this year… He couldn’t do it. Not now. Not  _ there _ . Even just passing by the tower made cold shivers run up his spine; he’d had to run and vomit the first time he’d stepped on the grass where Dumbledore had passed to the next world.

She had to know. She had to be punishing him. She had to-

He sagged into the shadows, pressing his forehead to the cool damp stones. His head was spinning. His knees were weak. He-

“Severus. Focus on my voice. Breathe in, two, three, four. And hold it, two, three, four. Good. Release slowly, two-”

His breath whooshed out on a sob and he pressed his palms into the stones to scrape against the rough edges of the tower.

“I can’t,” he whispered, but he wasn’t sure if he was saying that he couldn’t breathe or he couldn’t move or-

“Ok. Can you turn to look at me?” Gentle fingers touched his tenderly, more softly than any ever had. He grabbed her hand harder than he meant to, unable to control his strength, but her fingers curled around his and she crooned encouragement as he turned. He swallowed convulsively, trying to regain his dignity but his hand shook in hers.

“Granger?” he asked. She smiled sadly. With soul-deep understanding.

“I used to have them, too, after the final battle. Just keep breathing with me, all right?” She demonstrated the deep, slow breaths and Severus did his best to imitate her. Slowly the panic released its death grip on his throat.

“Thank you,” he finally said some minutes later. He glanced up at the tower where glittering lights and raucous music drifted down to them. “We should… get up-”

“You know what I think?” she interrupted him. She looped her arm easily through his and started leading them away. “I think we will have a better view of the meteor shower away from… all that.”

He looked down at her, his eyes wide in surprise. “Hermione Granger, breaking the rules?”

“Oh, I’m still Minerva’s favorite. I’ll get away with it.” She grinned at him and winked. “I’ll cover for you, too.”

And though he wasn’t looking at the sky, Severus swore he saw stars.


	6. Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For BlackCoffee13

“What do you love most about winter?” she asked. Hermione stood at the window, a smile playing across her face as she watched the clumps of snow dance in the wind. The grounds of Hogwarts had already been carpeted in the white fluff, softening harsh edges left by the battle years ago. The castle was still damaged and the scars born by both the grounds and the people would take a long time to heal, but the snow blanketed and hushed the memories for the time being, like a mother with an unruly child.

He considered the view quietly by her side, and Hermione waited. Severus often did this, falling into memories and deep thoughts and past decisions- she’d tried to bring him out of his musings early in their relationship, but he had been sullen and melancholy for the rest of the day each time. 

They’d curled around each other one night and he explained- he liked to think deeply about the best answers to her questions. He cared about her in a way he cared about few others. And her interest was precious to him- he wanted to give her the consideration she deserved.

So she waited patiently and quietly at his side as Hogwarts was swept in an upward wind, making the snowflakes fly to the towers and against the windows. But the edge of the storm was near and blue sky peeked near the horizon. Even as she watched, the snow fell with less frequency until eventually single tiny flakes drifted like stragglers from a herd. Students burst through the doors as the final class before the winter holidays let out. The quiet serenity of the snow was shattered by dozens of hands forming snowballs, screams and squeals, laughter and rage- all combined in a unique cacophony known to schoolyards the world over.

“You,” Severus said suddenly and Hermione shook herself out of her stupor.

“I’m sorry?”

“My favorite thing about winter,” he gestured at the window then continued the swing of his arm to bring it around her, “is you.”

Hermione snorted. “That was your answer about fall, too.”

“It is also true.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And summer. And spring, if I recall correctly.”

“You do.” Though his face remained calm and neutral, his lips pinched at the corners in his struggle to not smile. “You are my favorite thing about all seasons.”

Hermione laughed and leaned her head against his shoulder.

“You’re mine, too.”


	7. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Galaxy_Eyes

It was such a broad word. “Comfort.” It could mean everything from a mug of hot chocolate shared with your beloved while you watch the snow fall to the split second you forget the pain after waking from almost dying to see the most beautiful pair of brown eyes watching you with eyebrow-bending concern.

“Comfort” was what you felt watching your children tumbling on the floor while their mother leaned into your side and chuckled. “Comfort” was practically her middle name as she helped you regain what little feeling you could in your extremities. Her very presence exuded “comfort” from dawn to dusk and back again. 

But “comfort” didn’t include adventuring, seeking glory and fame, nor being a protagonist. It certainly wasn’t “comfortable” being known in the public eye. It didn’t bring him the warm fuzzy feeling that just sitting on his own sofa did.

“You’re thinking again,” Hermione said, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Sickle for your thoughts?”

“Beauty taming Beast, the contrast between before and now,” Severus lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles, “and how I love your hands on me.”

She chuckled, squeezed his hand in hers, and returned her gaze to their romping children. “I love you, too.”


End file.
